Black Ash Phoenix
by abovedeck
Summary: Hermione's double life finally caught up with her after the war, because the impossible happened: Snape survived. Snape/Hermione/Draco PWP.


He awoke, cursing and squinting at the sunlight filtering through the glass above his head. He hated mornings. As he dragged himself up to an almost sitting position, feeling the tremors of the remaining curses course through his body as a welcome to the day, he cursed again. He hated waking up. The covers were thrown off, and he maneuvered himself carefully to the side of the bed. Dropping his legs off the side of the cot, they dropped like lead due to his atrophied muscles. The cold floor shocked his poor feet. From across the Hogwarts Hospital Wing, Madame Pomfery heard the rail thin, sallow man curse for a third time that morning. Severus Snape hated being alive. Snape wanted nothing to do with life after the war. There was never to be a life after the war, not for him. So a misplaced life debt and some hasty decisions later, he found himself waking up to horrendous pain after so briefly succumbing to the numb middle ground before death. Squinting his eyes around the infirmary again, he sighed. The process of getting out of bed, to the bathroom and back to bed would probably last him until they saw fit to feed him again. His shaking legs were spindle thin, and seemed to be avoiding him at the moment. Taking a deep breath, Snape leaned forward to put pressure on his overly abused lower body. Poppy Pomfery glanced at the man attempting to stand up from one of the cots of another victim. Three months after the final battle, the toll on witches and wizards around Hogwarts was still palpable. The castle was slowly being rebuilt, as were relationships and bodies, but some holes could never be filled. There was not a single survivor nor story that broke her heart like Severus. The moment he had woken up in the hospital wing, she knew this was not what he wanted. The excruciating pain aside, he had been ready to accept this fate upon himself. He was ready. But that was not to be. Moving from her quiet observation, Poppy tutted at the young witch on the bed and moved along. Those who were still in the Hospital wing were on the long-term path for recovery, but all relatively stable. Fred Weasley lay asleep on one side of the room, with Remus Lupin and Cho Chung on either side. Poppy glanced at each chart as she walked by, despite having written each word herself. Everyone would pull through, but none of these people would have the life they deserved. The first few weeks after the war had been filled with a chaotic flurry throughout the hospital and a sense of hope and renewal throughout the wizarding world. More babies were conceived that night than Poppy wanted to think about, but she smiled at the thought of the young hopeful witches and wizards who were experiencing peace for the first time in their young lives. "Good morning Severus," Poppy supplied as she tucked her arm under his armpit to help him to his feet. "Infernal woman, I can do it." He muttered. He was too weak to glare when he was trying to stand, but he could still be the insufferable git he once was. As crazy as that may be, it gave Poppy hope that he hadn't entirely given up on the prospect of living. The grunting miserable task of his morning routine complete, Severus was exhausted when a pop signaled the incoming breakfast trays. He hated eating the nonsense they always gave him, and eating was a tiring prospect. Looking at the tray that had popped into existence on his lap, his eyes slit into a glare and his eyebrows snapped down. Anyone watching would have assumed that he thought there was poison on his plate with a note that read 'drink me.' Instead, the tray held cinnamon oatmeal with baked apple slices. The aroma was heavenly, causing a few of his fellow inmates in the hospital wing to sigh and look to his plate. They were always served pretty similar things based on their injuries and ability to eat, and this was distinctively out of the ordinary. It was still oatmeal, the gruel of the infirmed, but it actually looked (and smelled) edible. "Poppy" he growled, trying to put on his menacing face. She looked up from one of the Patil sister's bed, and cocked an eyebrow in his direction. The snarky bat infrequently asked for anything. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded, pointing at his plate. Concerned, Poppy hurried over- unsure what he meant. She looked at his plate, and saw nothing but oatmeal. Looking back up, she met his glinting eyes. "I think it means oatmeal is good for you and you're wasting away, godfather" a smooth voice said from behind the matron. "You behind this, boy?" came the growled response. "No, but I wish I thought of it" Draco Malfoy mused, his platinum hair lying perfectly despite the ungodly hour of the day. "Now eat it like a good boy." Snape, scowling as if it were his job, thought about it. It wasn't gruel, and it smelled good enough that his stomach was responding. The rumblings of his deprived body would soon be loud enough to hear, so he picked up his spoon and began attacking the oatmeal with a fervor. "I don't know who did it- but I will kiss them for this" Madame Pomfery muttered to the golden boy standing next to her. He nodded, watching his godfather truly eat for the first time since he regained consciousness. That had to count for something. 


End file.
